


Start a War

by themonkeycabal



Series: Run 'Verse [18]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's Daughter, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4461719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themonkeycabal/pseuds/themonkeycabal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hazards of real estate hunting in Brooklyn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Start a War

"Too small," Darcy shook her head and shoved the pamphlet from the real estate agent into her pocket. 

"Yeah," Bucky agreed and cast a disappointed look over his shoulder at the too small, too squat, too unimpressive warehouse. Trip number six out into Brooklyn on the hunt for the Bar and future home of SHIELD New York, while it was too early to start getting frustrated, nothing seemed to suit the vision Bucky had in his head. Whatever that might be. He was distressingly vague, saying only that he'd know it when he saw it. Darcy tried to lay out some concrete outlines of what they'd need in terms of lot size, and access, and then it was a matter of fitting Bucky's ideas into that. This was going to take a while. 

"We could look further out, closer to Queens," she suggested and Bucky let out a long sigh. She rolled her eyes. "I think Hammer's factory is in receivership. Maybe we could swing a deal."

"Too big," Bucky muttered, but he sounded amused. They stepped off the curb and started across the street back to the car. "Besides, next time somebody attacks Manhattan, you don't want to have to cross half the city to get there."

"That's what quinjets are for."

"I think—" Bucky stopped, going rigid, and threw out an arm in front of her. Her nose bumped his metal elbow, knocking her glasses askew.

"What the hell, Buck?" 

Without looking, he grabbed her shoulder, shoved her behind his back, and with his other hand, drew a pistol. It took her a confused moment to notice the dozen or so tac gear-clad men, assault rifles trained on the pair of them, pour out of a van and around the corners of the nearest buildings. 

"Don't move!" A tall, beefy man, hair trimmed down in a short buzz cut, approached out of the surrounding men. "James Buchanan Barnes, you are under arrest."

"Wait a minute," Darcy called, trying to get around Bucky, but his cybernetic arm had her corralled behind him. "I'm a federal agent, this man is my asset."

"We know who you are, Agent Lewis. You're wanted for questioning."

"On what grounds?" She asked around Bucky's shoulder, baffled and annoyed. "And who are you? You have an obligation to identify yourselves —"

"We're SHIELD," the man barked and tipped his chin up. 

"I'm SHIELD," Darcy countered, feeling her brain twist and bend in confusion. 

"We're the _real_ SHIELD."

Darcy finally fought her way out from behind Bucky, ducking under his arm, and stood in front of him, her feet planted. "The _real_ SHIELD?" she questioned, and then she laughed, because, really? Was this second grade recess? 

"Tell your asset to stand down," the man growled, offended by Darcy's laughter. 

"I was assigned this asset by Director Coulson," Darcy tried again.

"Coulson is no longer Director."

"What?" Darcy blurted, her mind going from swirling confusion to a grinding halt of absolute incomprehension. "Since when?"

"Since thirty-six hours ago. Tell your asset to stand down." They were pinched in now, held in the middle of a street in Brooklyn by a bristling ring of potential violence. Boy the neighbors were getting a show. 

"What happened?" Darcy asked and Bucky growled impatiently behind her. He wasn't in the mood to chat with the guys aiming guns at them. 

He ignored her question, his nostrils flaring as he glared at Bucky. "For the last time, tell your asset to stand down."

It was a coup. Somebody'd staged a coup. Darcy took a breath and leaned back against Bucky. 

"Bucky," she hissed, turning her head only slightly, not wanting to take her eyes off the other SHIELD agents, "Put the gun down."

"No," he growled back.

"Please, trust me. Just lower it, alright?" He shifted slightly, his lips pursed in an unhappy scowl, but he lowered his pistol, pointing it at the ground. "What's your name, agent?"

"Abbot. Step away from him, Agent Lewis."

"No. Not until I have a clear answer on—"

"Step away!" Abbot took a threatening step forward and Bucky's arm went back up, gun ready, and he grabbed Darcy's shoulder, pulling her aside and trying to shove her behind him again. 

"Stop," Darcy cried out. She could feel the building tension, like a static charge in the air, the hair stood up on her arms, and her mouth went dry. In about two seconds there would be a lot of blood leaking across the asphalt. Probably even hers. "Everybody just stop. This can go peacefully. Nobody has to get hurt."

"Surrender now," Abbot repeated, his voice a harsh rasp echoing off the brick around them.

"Look, we're all SHIELD agents here," Darcy tried again, trying to keep her voice steady and calming. "We're on the same side."

"I know what side I'm on, and it's not the same side as _that_ ," Abbot spat at Bucky.

This was not going to be resolved peacefully, it was obvious in the set of Abbot's jaw, in the un-moving tension of the tac team, in the hard line of Bucky's body. Darcy had to get everybody out of this, she had to try and make sense of this. She might not know what was going on, but she could stop what was about to happen. Her brain sped through scenarios, playing them out one by one, as she worked the pieces, tried to see the way out. A heartbeat or two was all she needed to see there was only one.

"Give me one minute, Agent Abbot," she asked, holding up a hand, pleading. He just had to give her a little time. Just a tiny moment and nobody would die. "Just one minute to talk to my asset, okay? This can go easily, I promise. Just give me a minute."

He stared at her, hard and cold, for a long moment. "Sixty seconds. If you try anything, we are authorized to use force."

Spinning on her heel, she put a hand on Bucky's chest and the other on his arm, trying to push it down and his weapon with it. "I need you to trust me," she murmured. 

"I do." He didn't take his eyes off the team facing them. 

"Then, when I surrender myself to them, I want you to run."

His eyes dropped to hers and his mouth fell open. "No."

"Yes," she pressed, resolved. Until she knew exactly what was going on, who was in control of SHIELD, she sure as hell didn't trust them with Bucky. And every other option that played out in her head turned into a whole lot of death. "They won't do anything to me, and I need to figure this out. So, you run, get the hell out of here. Give me two days, and if you don't hear from me, contact my dad and then come and find me."

"No, we are not doing this," he growled, his eyes darting around, reevaluating the situation, but she saw the hard, cold desperation on his face. He saw what she saw. One way out. 

"Yes, Barnes," she hissed back, the tension building in her chest, taking on the sour tang of panic. "This isn't going to go well. Abbot's got an itchy finger and we're outnumbered. You might be all super soldier, but I'm not. Do you see? If I turn myself in to them, they won't hurt me, but I can't trust they won't do anything to you. And these are SHIELD agents, we're all that's left. Don't hurt them if you don't have to."

"How do you know? They could be Hydra," he argued back furiously. 

"Trying to arrest us? Why bother? No, they're SHIELD. That _real_ SHIELD bullshit is too smug to fake," she said, scoffing and rolling her eyes. This little coup smacked of a internecine pissing contest. A potentially bloody and violent one. 

"Damn it, Darcy."

"Trust me," she pressed intently, pleading with him. "Trust _me_."

"24 hours."

"Jesus, not now, Buck," she groaned. "Two days. I need time to put this together. And I need to know what their deal is with Phil. If he's gone off grid, you can use the time to try and find him."

She watched his jaw working for a moment as he ground his teeth. "I think," she said, words slow as she sorted the idea in her head, "I think this is what Fury meant about me having more authority than I realized. I _have_ to figure this out. And, if nothing else, I've got an ace or two up my sleeve."

"I don't like this," he grumbled, thrusting out his jaw in petulance.

"I know." She gave him an apologetic pat on the chest. "But I need you to trust me."

"I don't trust them."

"Time's up, Lewis," Abbot barked. 

"Okay," she called back, giving Bucky a look and a raised eyebrow. He clenched his jaw stubbornly but dipped his head in a nod. Turning around, she held her hands up and prepared herself to step away from Bucky. "Okay, I'm surrendering, nobody shoot."

She took two steps forward towards Abbot, who lowered his weapon in response, and on her third step Bucky ran. The next few seconds were a confused melee, men yelling, shots fired at the fleeing Soldier, and Darcy thrown face down on the asphalt, chin scraping the ground painfully, a knee in her back, one arm wrenched up behind her. Abbot stood over her swearing up a blue streak. 

"What the hell kind of stunt was that?" He demanded, enraged. 

"Take me to your leader," Darcy muttered into the oil and grit of the street.

"You think you're funny? You just let a terrorist escape. So, on top of harboring a fugitive, we get to add aiding and abetting."

"Oh, fucking indict me, already," she grumbled and tried to turn over, but the knee in her back didn't move, and her arm was still twisted, her shoulder joint screaming in protest. "You don't have any legal authority," she said more loudly. "You are, at best, a vigilante task force."

"We're the ones keeping this world safe from monsters like the Winter Soldier." He stepped back and waved a hand. "Get her up. Minsky, take your team, find that bastard."

Dragged to her feet by rough hands, Darcy tried to shake free, but the men holding her only tightened their grips. "You're not going to find him. Seventy years—"

Abbot pointed a finger at her face. "I don't want to hear another word out of you."

Not put off, Darcy scowled back at him. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but I was authorized by Director Coulson—"

"He is not the Director."

"Then who is?"

"We have a council."

Darcy blinked at him and shook her head. "A council? A _council_. Are you kidding me?" She laughed again. 

Abbot stepped close to her and glared down, trying to intimidate her with his bulk. She narrowed her eyes and glared back. Darcy'd got the measure of him quickly enough; he was a pissant with a gun, a petty bully. Nothing he could do was going to shake her; she knew gods and monsters, she'd been held by Hydra, she was a Stark. He could fuck right the hell off. 

"Put her in the van," Abbot ordered the men at her side. 

Darcy was hustled off, her hands were cuffed, sharp and painfully tight, and she was shoved into the waiting vehicle. Inside, the cuffs were looped through a chain, and the chain secured to a bench. She was pushed down and locked tight. 

"Where are you taking me?"

The men holding her were silent. Darcy let out a long breath through her nose and tried to calm down, reign in her temper, find her center, like Clint always said. Assess the situation. She was confident they weren't going to do anything to her. Well, she was mostly confident. 

"Is this the kind of SHIELD you want to work for?" She asked the armed man sitting next to her. "Nothing says noble quite like threatening extra-judicial proceedings."

"Why the hell are you still talking?" Abbot groused as he hopped into the back of the van.

"Why the hell are you such an asshole?" She shot back. "So the _real_ SHIELD abducts SHIELD agents off the street? The _real_ SHIELD arbitrarily decides it doesn't want to recognize the Director's authority? The _real_ SHIELD —"

"Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you."

"Touch me and you will bring down a hell you can't possibly imagine," Darcy warned in a low, icy voice. 

Abbot scoffed and sneered, "Your Hydra buddy going to come for us?"

"You should be more worried about me than anybody else right now." She sat back, grunting when the chain securing her in the van dug into her back. "How'd you find us, by the way?"

Abbot gave her a quizzical look, then turned his head to the front of the van. "Get us moving. We're heading back to base."

"Yes, sir," the driver called back, putting the van in gear. 

"Tracker?" Darcy guessed and by Abbot's narrow-eyed glare and pointed silence she knew she'd guessed right. "Where would we have picked up a tracker?" She chewed on her lower lip and thought. "Only place it could have been was the Playground. So, you've got a mole?" And then she remembered a furious, whispered conversation. "Two moles. Is Agent Morse on your council? Agent Mackenzie?"

"Bag her," Abbot said gruffly, the muscles in his jaw bunching and jumping. 

The agent next to her snatched her glasses off, and pulled out a black bag, shoving it over her head. It was musty, but at least it wasn't rank. Who washed the head bags? Who was the poor sucker who got that job? Somebody had to do it, right? 'Sorry, can't fight aliens today, gotta wash the head bags'. 

They drove for maybe twenty minutes, and Darcy took the time to think. According to Abbot, Coulson was compromised but he wouldn't say how. She was missing a big honking something here. Why the coup? Abbot seemed angry about Coulson, so maybe he got away. She had to hope. Maybe Bucky could find him. Assuming Bucky actually listened to her, and wasn't following the van like a dark, avenging angel. 

Abbot's reaction to Bucky wasn't going to be a big help in figuring things out. Frankly, it was deservedly extreme. Darcy might know Bucky Barnes, but the Winter Soldier was a nightmare figure, a mythic assassin who'd been terrifying the intelligence community for more than half a century. But, Morse or Mack ratted them out. Why? They both would have known that Bucky was on SHIELD's side now. Unless they didn't trust it, thought it was … a lie? A trick? Hydra? Did they think she was Hydra? Coulson?

Was Coulson compromised because they didn't like that he brought in the Winter Soldier? But if they were ready to roll on the Winter Soldier in thirty-six hours, that said this coup was a long time in coming, though; not something that somebody cooked up one night over too much beer and petty griping. Well this was just a mess and a half. She had no idea what was going on at the Playground, but she'd known something was up and suspected Coulson was intentionally keeping her out of it. That was just no help at all in this situation. 

Or, did this have to do with Fury? Was this an older fracture than even the fall of SHIELD? He'd sent Strike Team What the Hell out twice on small missions to gather a hidden box of hard drives and another mysterious briefcase. Did this have to do with Theta Protocol? Darcy had only the barest idea of what was behind that, but it was big. Fury, unfortunately, knew her well enough to only give her the smallest of pieces, nothing big enough for her to put it together. Yet. 

The van stopped and she was hoisted out, and set stumbling blind up a metal ramp. Shoved once more into a seat, she tried to listen to the sounds and any chatter around her. She heard pre-flight checks and growled. A quinjet. She was on a freaking quinjet. So _real_ SHIELD had a quinjet and who knows what else. Men, weapons, a base, and plenty of time to stage a coup. While Coulson was struggling to find resources, were these guys sitting fat and happy? Hiding away, second guessing everything the Director did, spying on him, and not helping a Goddamned bit. Waiting for the moment they could drive him out? She growled to herself, then shook her head. No, wait. She had to keep her temper, she could be pissed off later. First, she had to get as much of the picture as she could. Then she'd know what to do. 

It was hours, hard to tell how many, before the quinjet landed and she was hustled off. Wherever they were it was windy, the air tugged and rustled at the bag making it difficult to hear much. And then her foot caught on something hard and metal, banging her shins, she tipped forward, falling with her hands still bound behind her, but she was caught by the upper arms and dragged over a metal beam or lip, into a quiet hallway, the distant hum of machinery around them. A heavy metal door clanged shut behind her, and the floor seemed to roll lightly under her feet. A ship? Was she on a ship? And she tripped over the lip on the bulkhead doorway? So, at least one quinjet, probably two for all the men Abbot had with him, plus those men, plus their weapons, plus a ship. 

Darcy set her jaw as she updated that mental inventory. Despite her attempts to stay calm and cool, her temper was building again. Somebody was going to have a very bad day, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be her. 

After a long walk down the corridor, through two more bulkhead doors, she was carefully guided down a set of very steep metal steps and down more corridors. Then through another door where the bag was finally removed and she was in a meeting room. Blinking against the sudden lights and the dryness of her eyes, she cast a look around the blurry room. 

"Dude, can I have my glasses back?"

The agent stared at her. 

"Give me her glasses," a woman's voice said behind her. "And take the cuffs off."

"Bobbi Morse," Darcy drawled, bright and chipper, turning her back to the agent so he could unbind her hands. She grinned at the other woman. It was nice to be right about one thing, at least. "Of all the secret ships in all the oceans."

Bobbi gave her a thin smile in return. "You stepped onto mine."

"Well, I _was_ invited." Darcy made a point of rubbing the stinging ache out of her now free wrists. "And you sent a car for me and all. How could I turn that down?"

Bobbi's face was tense and unhappy, but not angry. Interesting. She looked over at the agent behind Darcy and nodded. "You can go."

"Where's Coulson?"

Cocking her head, Bobbi handed Darcy back her glasses with a frown. "You don't know?"

"Why would I?" Darcy muttered, wiping the fingerprints off her glasses and putting them back on, the bland, utilitarian room coming into focus. 

"I thought you two were close."

"Clearly I'm way the hell out of the loop." Darcy meandered further into the room, and circled the black, heavy conference table, taking in what she could. Bobbi's eyes followed her as she moved. "So, I can't say I like how my invitation was delivered."

"The Winter Soldier is dangerous," Bobbi said simply, but there was a tight, almost regretful note in her voice. 

"That is true. He's less dangerous when you don't try to take him by force, though." Darcy stopped at the head of the table and crossed her arms. "You could have asked."

"Would you have come?"

"Probably," she answered honestly. Curiosity would have compelled her. But curiosity only went so far. "Not, Bucky, though."

"That's why we didn't ask."

Darcy spread her hands wide and raised an eyebrow. "And look who's not here."

Bobbi lips stretched back into a weary smile. "Yeah."

"Is this her?" A new voice interrupted them with a rich rumble, whiskey smooth. Darcy turned her head to the older, mustachioed man who entered the room with a cane and a heavy limp. He had a kind face, but sharp eyes; kind of like a nice grandpa who'd decided to be a jerk. Darcy opened her mouth to say something, but the words died on her lips when she saw the woman behind him. 

Stunned, Darcy gaped for a second before choking out, "May? What the actual fu—"

"Lewis," May cut her off with a sharp shake of her head. 

This didn't make sense. None of this was making sense. If May was here? Where was Coulson? What the hell was going on? May couldn't be part of the coup. She just couldn't. Right? 

"So," the man said, stepping further into the room and facing her across the table, his hands braced on his cane. "You let the Winter Soldier escape."

"I removed my asset from a situation that was going to end badly for your team," Darcy agreed, numb, her brain still trying to unwrinkle this new, nasty twist. "You're welcome."

The man's face darkened, the lines deepening and he glanced at Bobbi. 

"Minsky's team is still tracking him," she reported. 

"You're not going to find him," Darcy said, defensive and protective, the heat of her temper starting to melt away the edges of shock and numbness. She could push aside the confusion, and fill all that space with righteous indignation and obnoxious arrogance. She was good at that. And it was usually irritating enough to get somebody to spill before she did. 

"You can tell us where he'll go," the man said.

Darcy gave him a look of pure incredulity. "Who _are you_?"

"I'm Robert Gonzales, Agent Lewis. I've read your file. It's an interesting read."

"Yeah, New York Times bestseller."

May made a small sound of irritation and disapproval. 

Darcy glanced at her and demanded, "Where's Coulson?"

May's lips thinned to almost nothing and she gave Darcy a hard stare. A warning stare. Darcy frowned back. 

"We don't know," Gonzales said. "You wouldn't happen to have an idea on that would you?"

"Pound sand."

Gonzales's eyes narrowed, while Bobbi gave her an exasperated, pleading look, and May's jaw tightened enough that Darcy expected to hear her teeth start to crack. 

"I don't appreciate the attitude," Gonzales chided her with a frosty look. 

"Then you shouldn't have arrested me," Darcy shot back.

"You're harboring a wanted fugitive."

"Who was assigned as my asset by Director Coulson."

"We don't recognize his authority," Gonzales said, his lips turned down in a sour expression. 

"I do." Darcy drew in a breath, ignored May's pursed lips and head shake, and said, "I was given a lawful order from the organization that we both, supposedly, work for. Phil Coulson was chosen as Director by Nick Fury. Ignoring those orders—"

Gonzales cut her off, "Phil Coulson was compromised."

"In what way?"

"What do you know about the Tahiti Project?"

Darcy rubbed at her forehead and let out a long breath. "Literally nothing. First I've heard of it."

"Coulson never told you how he survived his encounter with being known as Loki?"

"He did not."

"I find that hard to believe," he said with a small, amused chuckle.

"I don't give a—"

"Lewis," May cut in sharply. "Watch your mouth." Another warning. 

Darcy pressed her lips together and considered May. Aside from her appearance at the side of the people who'd very clearly staged a coup, she had no reason not to trust May. Coulson trusted her. He trusted her with his life. So … Coulson was in the wind, and May was on the inside. Under the guise of a reprimand, May was ordering her to keep her head, to not say too much. Darcy wasn't so dense she missed that, but it was an awful lot to ask right now. But, she could try.

Taking a slow breath, Darcy crossed her arms and rolled her head on her shoulders. "Director Coulson never told me anything about the Tahiti Project, or how he survived a spear through his chest. Director Fury banned me from his office for asking that question one too many times."

"Your file did indicate a tendency towards insubordination," Gonzales rumbled, looking like he didn't find that anecdote the least bit amusing. "How did you end up working directly for Director Fury?"

"You'd have to ask him."

"He's dead."

"Yeah, that's a bummer," Darcy said, irritation building back up despite May's warnings. 

"That's enough," Gonzales snapped. "The Tahiti Project was one of Fury's secret directives. They used alien blood on Phil Coulson and other agents. It healed them, but it changed them. He's no longer the man he was before he died on the helicarrier. His decision making has been suspect for some time. It's led to the deaths of good agents in the service of a quest for alien artifacts, an alien city. Driven by that treatment and the changes it made. Did you know that?"

Darcy was seriously considering throttling Phil next time she saw him. Alien city? What? Here she was caught flat-footed, nothing to say in his defense, except she knew him. She _knew_ Phil Coulson. If he had to make hard decisions, it was because he was left with the wreckage of a betrayed spy agency and only a sorry, scraped together collection of resources. Told to rebuild it, do it right, nothing but the handful of people he trusted and Fury's mystery tool box. If he was hunting for an alien city, it was for a very good reason. 

"Trip's dead," Bobbi spoke up, her voice subdued. 

This new blow shook Darcy hard enough that all her thinking, all her trying to put the pieces together, shattered into a million pebbles across the floor. Was this what it felt like for Bucky when he looked at Steve? She couldn't string a coherent thought together anymore. "What?"

"Those questionable decisions," Gonzales said, his eyes sharp again, sensing the crumbling of her defenses. "And with Agent Skye—"

"What about Skye?" Darcy demanded, cold fear shooting across her scalp. 

Raising an eyebrow he drummed his fingers on the handle of his cane. "Maybe you're not as trusted an agent as we thought." That was a deliberate and nasty dig. Oh, she caught that alright. He was prying at cracks he thought were there. He'd need to do better than that.

Darcy waved him off and turned to Agent May. "Where's Skye?" 

"I don't know."

"That alien city I mentioned," Gonzales said. "There was an artifact that released an alien pathogen. It's what killed Agent Triplett. Agent Skye survived, but …" he held out one open hand, as if to suggest something worse than death. "She's not Skye anymore. She's become a monster, one of those ugly threats we have to face every day. Coulson moved her to another location, trying to hide her. When we went to retrieve her, she used her powers and left one of our agents in critical condition."

Darcy exploded, slapping the palm of one hand on the smooth, dark surface of the conference table. Lack of answers, more riddles, using a friend, two friends, to emotionally manipulate her. She was done, fed up. "What the fuck? What in the actual hell is going on here?"

"Lewis, calm down," May said. 

"The hell I will."

Bobbi chewed at her bottom lip and stepped forward, a placating hand towards Darcy. "We believe Phil Coulson is collecting powered people."

"Why?" Darcy exclaimed, frustration and confusion choking the word out of her. 

"We don't know. That's what has us concerned. Mike Peterson, Skye, the Winter Soldier."

"Skye's been with the team for two years. She didn't have powers."

"Maybe they were latent."

Darcy groaned and kicked a chair away from the desk so she could drop heavily into it, her tantrum spent for the moment, leaving behind a sick trail of grief and dread. "This is such absolute bullshit."

"A secret team of powered people," Gonzales said quietly. "That is cause for concern."

Darcy gave him an impatient look. "You're talking to the wrong person. I worked with the Avengers."

"And look at the potential damage they could cause."

"Sure, stopping alien invasions, destroying Hydra bases while you sit on your thumbs out here in the big wide ocean," she said, putting as much disdain in each word as she could. "Bad Avengers. Bad."

"You can't deny Dr. Banner is a threat," Gonzales pressed, trying another tack. 

Darcy snorted a laugh. "It's Tony Stark you've got to worry about."

Gonzales accepted that with a nod. "What he knows about Extremis—"

"Oh give it a rest," she snarled. "There are threats in the world. There are always threats. Who stopped the Red Skull? Powered Steve Rogers. That's what Project: Rebirth was about."

"That's one man. And how many people have tried to replicate the Super Soldier process over the years? How well did that turn out?"

"How many people would have tried it anyway?" Darcy countered, a sharp bite in her voice. "How glad can we be for that one man to stop them? Red Skull was working on it long before Steve was on the scene."

"It's SHIELD's job to stop—"

"I know _exactly_ what SHIELD's job is. I know _exactly_ why SHIELD was created." May was giving her the warning look again. Darcy was saying too much. But, Darcy thought she wasn't saying enough. She had a _lot_ to say. And she was tired of being rapped on the knuckles for it. 

Gonzales let out a long sigh, like he was weary of talking to a recalcitrant child. Walking heavily over to a chair, he lowered himself painfully, slowly down. He caught her watching him. "I was injured when Hydra tried to take this ship."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said flatly. 

"We took a lot of casualties. I got lucky." He watched her over the rims of his glasses and asked, "Just out of curiosity, where were you that day?"

She stared at him for a long moment before responding, her voice as flat and dry as she could make it, "New York base."

"I heard that was bad," Gonzales said with a nod that might almost have been respectful. 

"It wasn't fun."

"Still, not as bad as the Triskelion," he commented, his tone mild but leading. 

And they were back to the Winter Soldier. Darcy rolled her eyes and leaned her crossed arms on the table. "I'm not giving you Bucky Barnes."

"That's too bad," Gonzales said, sounding like he really did regret that. "I'd hoped you'd be cooperative." 

"I can't possibly imagine why you thought that," she told him dryly. 

"He's a dangerous monster."

"He is James Buchanan Barnes, a war hero and a POW for more than seventy years," Darcy said, her voice rising to a shout. 

"That man died," Gonzales said with a sad shake of his head.

"You seem to know an awful lot about who people _used_ to be," Darcy told him, her disgust with him and his group climbing up in her throat like bile. "No room for change in your world?"

"Agent Gonzales," a cultured British voice called from the door, and a thin, elegant looking woman walked in. "Agent Minsky reports they've lost the Winter Soldier."

"I see. Thank you, Agent Weaver." He glanced back at Darcy, who smirked. His dark eyes glittered with aggravation. "Agent Morse, take Agent Lewis down to the brig."

Darcy stared for a second and then laughed. "You're going to try and hold me?" May groaned softly and Darcy glanced at the other agent. Her eyes were closed and she was taking steadying breaths. 

Gonzales tipped his chin up and gave her a look over. "You will be debriefed and then we'll decide what to do with you."

Darcy returned his own evaluating look and felt something new growing alongside her irritation. It felt like power, a power she did have, one that had nothing to do with alien goo or hinky science experiments. All on their own, her lips tipped up into a smile. "No."

"Excuse me?" Gonzales had the bemused look of a man who wasn't used to people denying his orders.

"I said no," Darcy repeated. "You are not going to hold me. You are going to release me."

"Fine, tell the Winter Soldier to come in peacefully."

"Absolutely not," she said with a dismissive laugh. 

"He's dangerous," Gonzalez argued back, his facade of calm cracking. "Over the last fifty years, he's been involved, suspected or directly implicated, in dozens of assassinations and destabilization incidents."

"If you got that from the file I think you did," Darcy shot a black look at Bobbi, who glanced away. "I was the one who put all that together." A grim, horrible task, going through decades of SHIELD files looking for the signs of the Winter Soldier in some of the worst, ugliest events of the 20th century. She didn't trust it to anybody else, though, so she chipped away at it in those moments when she could stomach the pain of it, updating Coulson as she went. 

"Then you know that we will have no problem charging you as an accessory."

"Oh do me a favor," she scoffed and he scowled. He could throw around all the legal words he wanted, but there was no court that would accept charges filed by _real_ SHIELD, and they both knew it.

"Color me about a thousand shades of unimpressed with how you're running things here," Darcy told him, relaxing back, but her fingers began tapping at the table. Pieces were coming together and that earlier feeling of power was growing. She'd gotten under Gonzales's skin, and the more irritated he got, the calmer she felt. "There were easily a half-dozen different ways to approach me and Bucky that weren't objectionable or likely to end in a blood bath. You chose the absolute worst one. Also, you could have gone to Coulson with your concerns at any time over the last year. Instead you, what? Chose to sit here and watch and criticize." 

"Who are you to judge?" Agent Weaver said, the first time she'd taken part in the conversation and Darcy didn't like the snide edge to her tone. 

"And who are you to judge me?" She asked with some snide of her own. "What gives you that authority? Nothing."

"Lewis," May said quietly, a look on her face that said she had a good idea of what was about to happen and she was desperately hoping she was wrong. 

"You can call yourselves the _real_ SHIELD all you like," Darcy pointed out steadily, "but that does not make you SHIELD. You've circumvented the chain of command for your own purposes. If you press me, I will consider you a radical splinter group. An illegal faction. And that should concern you." 

"That's not your decision to make," Agent Weaver argued again, looking deeply unhappy with Darcy's stance. 

"It's as much mine as anybody's. More so." Darcy raised her chin and stared down the other agent. "We're all SHIELD agents here. I think we've all got an idea of how SHIELD should be. I think the collapse scared you. I think you want to do things in a different way, _because_ you're scared. Because you got hurt, you lost people, you were betrayed. We all were. But you've taken jurisdiction that is not yours to take. You've ignored Director Fury's wishes, and are guilty of multiple breaches of the SHIELD operational rules and regs. You staged a Goddamned coup!"

Gonzales heaved himself to his feet. "I'm done with this conversation. Barbara—"

"Let me talk to her," May said, moving quickly to stop Gonzales. "Just give us a few minutes. We know each other, I can talk her down."

Gonzales glanced back and forth between them. "You have ten minutes. Agent Morse should stay." May's jaw clenched but she nodded. 

When Gonzales and Weaver had gone, May let out a long breath. "You've always got to be so stubborn," she muttered to Darcy.

"It's in the blood," she said, unrepentant. May gave her a sharp look in return, hard and unforgiving. 

"Darcy, look," Bobbi started, her voice apologetic. "I'm sorry about the tracker, but you have to understand—"

"Do I really?"

"Too many secrets led to the fall of SHIELD." Bobbi held her arms out. "And now there are more? Coulson's been going off on recruiting trips for months, but that's not where he's been. We don't know what he's doing. Nobody does. SHIELD can't operate like that. We," she waved her hand at the ship, "we believe that SHIELD needs to operate with transparency. That —"

"Says the people who have hidden on this ship for months spying on the Director," Darcy interrupted. "You could have talked to him! You could have talked to me! But, no, you sent a tac team to _arrest_ me. Man, you guys need a new dictionary if that's your definition of transparency." 

"Lewis," May said on a long breath. "We're going to figure this out. You _need_ to be patient."

"No, I don't think I do. I'll stay out of your way, but I gave Bucky a time frame. If I'm not out of here in —" she glanced at the clock on the wall, "43 hours, then he's calling the Avengers. You can imagine what Tony will do," she said, giving May a very pointed stare. 

Bobbi frowned. "You think the Avengers will interfere with SHIELD?"

"I think they'll come and get me. If you try to stop them, that's on you." Darcy shrugged. "I'll do my best to make sure none of you get hurt."

"Darcy," Bobbi said, looking uncomfortable and unhappy. "If you would just cooperate."

"I'm not giving Bucky up to some sort of creepy Star Chamber," she shouted, temper flaring back up. This was a non-starter. No deal, no negotiation, no 'let's be reasonable' bullshit, was going to include giving up Bucky. She was dug in on that point, and pleading looks from Bobbi or bulldog growls from Gonzales were not going to shift her. 

"He's a wanted terrorist."

Darcy groaned in frustrated exasperation. "And until a few months ago, so were we."

"Morse," May cut in. "Please, just give us a minute."

"No, I'm sorry. I can't do that," the other agent shook her head. "Look, I know that you're trying to protect Coulson and Skye, I know why. But, we're all trying to do the right thing here."

"Are you hunting Skye?" Darcy asked. 

"No."

Darcy rolled her eyes and slouched back in her chair. "What a crock."

"I want to help her," Bobbi shot back, her own temper finally breaking. "I know Skye, I like her. She's a good agent. I don't want to hurt her, I don't want to lock her away. But she's been through something terrible and she needs our help."

"At the point of a gun," Darcy said, her voice rising to a near shout again. "Is that how your other agent got hurt?"

May let out a long breath. "This isn't getting us anywhere. But, Lewis is right, you can't hold her. The Avengers will come for her, and that's not a war any of us wants."

Bobbi watched May for a long moment. "You know that for sure?"

"I do."

"I know she was trained by Barton and Romanoff, but they wouldn't—"

"They're not the ones you have to worry about," May said, her jaw set in irritation. 

"Tony will come and he won't be happy," Darcy offered, almost entertained at the thought, if she ignored the reality of the ugly fight that would result. "If you want the Avengers to stay out of your business, you'll let me go."

"Damn it, Lewis," May muttered and Bobbi's head tilted to one side as she stared at Darcy, working to put her own set of puzzle pieces together.

"Why Tony Stark specifically?" Bobbi asked. 

May shook her head sharply while a grin grew on Darcy's face. "Don't you dare."

"I think it's time," Darcy told May. "If we're all tired of secrets, if we want to shine a light on those little shadows all around us, then, yeah, we ought to be honest with each other."

"What is going on?" Bobbi asked, taking a step back, like she thought Darcy was gearing up for a fight.

"Lewis, I am ordering you to keep your mouth shut," May growled.

"Apparently, SHIELD's undergoing another reorganization. I don't like it, but then I didn't sign on to this _real_ SHIELD bullshit."

"Please, don't," May said, trying again to get Darcy off the track she was barreling down. But it was too late, that feeling of power grew in her, swelling until she finally knew exactly what to do. 

"Fury told me once that I had a duty to make sure SHIELD became the organization it was meant to be." She looked at Bobbi, explaining, "He and I didn't always get along, but I'm starting to see more and more that was, at least a little bit, a matter of me not understanding him. Barton called me Fury Jr. once. He didn't mean it as a compliment. That hurt my feelings, but you know, in retrospect, I don't hate it as much as I did."

"Fury kept too many secrets," Bobbi said weakly. "I admired him, but —"

"You're not wrong," Darcy agreed easily, because, as far as she could tell, ninety percent of this mess was on Fury. "I'm one of those secrets. And that secret is the reason you're going to let me go."

Bobbi drew in a long breath and set her feet, battle ready. "You're powered."

"No. But, I don't need to be." Darcy stood up and gave May an apologetic look. May looked pissed but resigned. "I'm sorry, but if there is a way to fix this, then we're all going to need to trust each other some day. Right? Maybe this isn't the time, but " she looked back over at Bobbi, "I'm going to channel Fury and order you to get your shit together. There are threats out there, and this infighting crap is going to get us all killed."

"If you'd—"

"No. Consider this another coup. I'm ordering you to fix it," Darcy said, and she really did feel like Fury in that moment. Man, she owed him about a thousand apologies. That would be a bitter pill to swallow. Or, maybe more like a hundred apologies, after she took off for all the bullshit she was having to deal with because of him.

Bobbi frowned, confusion twisting her lips. "I don't understand."

"My name is Darcy Maria Stark. SHIELD is my grandfather's legacy to me. I will not have it tear itself apart again. You'll release me and you _will_ fix this Goddamned mess." She felt her nostrils flare with aggravation but also … freedom. She felt freer than she ever had before. It felt like flying. "Or I will."

May's eyes were closed again and Bobbi was gaping at her. 

"So, now's when you let me go, because I'm not kidding about Tony not being happy," Darcy said, raising her eyebrows at Bobbi. 

May opened her eyes and gave her a considering look. "What's Theta Protocol?"

Darcy's head jerked in surprise. "What?"

The other agent's eyes narrowed and she took a step forward, bracing her fists on the conference table and leaning over it towards Darcy. "You know what it is, don't you?"

"No, I actually don't," Darcy replied, pleased she could be honest. She knew the name, but that was it. Fury told her to lock that shit way the hell down. 

"What's Coulson doing?" May asked, an edge of desperation to her voice. Darcy squinted back at her, confused and resenting this new twist to an already twisty day. They thought Phil was in on Theta Protocol? Well, hell, it was Fury, so he probably was.

Bobbi saw what she thought was an in, a way to get Darcy onside, and pressed forward, "We've got evidence of Coulson moving massive amounts of equipment and personnel." 

"Where?"

"We don't know."

"No, I mean, where from?" She waved a hand in a frustrated, circular, 'get to the point' motion. "And where is this evidence?"

Bobbi moved over to the pair of monitors on the wall at the head of the table and tapped at it. A screen came to life with a map of the globe, blue dots scattered across it. "There. And that equipment," she pointed to a scrolling, incomplete inventory of seemingly random parts and gear.

Darcy stared at the map for a long moment, waiting for a picture to resolve itself. It wasn't coming. She'd known Theta was big, but she hadn't realized it was this big. What could be this big? This wasn't just big, this was helicarrier-sized big, this was — oh. Oh! Helicarrier. Fury, you absolute bastard. God, SHIELD was fighting itself over itself. Again. Son of a bitch. 

"Well," May prompted impatiently. 

"No clue," Darcy shrugged. "Bucky and I have had our hands full with Hydra in Europe."

"You haven't left the country in months," Bobbi said, an eyebrow raised. 

"So you think," Darcy told her with what she hoped was an aggravating grin, doing her best to deflect away from Theta. 

"Koenig gave you documents," Bobbi pointed out sounding weary, like Darcy should have just expected to be tracked by SHIELD. Which, really, she should, but when it was Coulson's SHIELD she didn't have anything to hide. 

"I have another passport," Darcy waved her off. "Off-book."

"Why use off-book papers?" 

"Why not? Clearly so that creepy SHIELD in SHIELD couldn't dog my steps." Darcy gave her a flat look. "Guess it's good you didn't try to grab us in Spain last week."

"You were in New York last week," Bobbi said with a roll of her eyes.

"Really? Man, the spying." Darcy continued to stare at the map and the picture was finally very, very clear. And then she lied, "I don't know what Theta Protocol is. But, if it's Coulson, I'm sure he's doing it for a good reason."

May bowed her head and her mask slipped for the barest instant, but the tiny slip was enough to reveal the uncertainty underneath. He kept it from her. Oh, Phil, you dumbass. Though, she couldn't imagine the pressure he was under — managing the rebuilding, working for or with Fury, keeping an eye on the threat of a coup, and apparently, having to hunt down alien cities, having an agent exposed to an alien pathogen, having another die. Darcy closed her eyes, the stab in her chest at the reminder of Trip's death taking her breath. 

"Was Skye alright?" She asked quietly, looking over at May and hoping she'd say her friend was fine, that some part of this massive mess wasn't horrible. 

"No. She was scared," May said, understanding what Darcy was really asking. "It was some sort of alien rite. An alien race called the Kree experimented on humans thousands of years ago. The descendants of those experiments are still around. Exposure to this artifact activates them, causes a change. We were searching for the city to stop Hydra from getting hold of it and this power," she gave Bobbi an irritated, narrow-eyed glower, "and to try and find Skye. Her father took her, believing she was one of those descendants. We were too late."

"But she changed, so she was?" Darcy asked, feeling queasy. 

"Yes."

"And it killed Trip."

"Yes."

Darcy nodded slowly. "The city? Did Hydra—"

"No," May said sharply. "Simmons flooded it. Nobody will get it now."

"Thank God." Darcy tilted her head back, looking up at the ceiling, and took a deep breath. "Bobbi, you might want to go talk Gonzales into letting me go."

"I can't leave you two," Bobbi said, sounding genuinely sorry about that. "It's not a matter of my trust, but of everybody else's. This is—"

"I'll go," May said with a roll of her eyes. 

"I need to get back and talk to Thor," Darcy told her. "Maybe he knows about this Kree stuff."

May shook her head and headed for the door. "Sif gave us that information."

Darcy blinked and took a moment to absorb that. She missed a Sif visit? That was not cool. "You saw Sif. Okay."

"She wanted to take Skye to Asgard."

"Ah." Darcy winced. "That good, huh?"

May gave her a thin smile and nodded. "Don't try to escape. I don't need any more stress today."

"Yeah, alright," Darcy sat back down, exhausted. She was so done with this day. 

Bobbi stared at the map for a while before crossing over and propping her hip against the table next to Darcy. "Stark, huh?"

Letting out a dry chuckle, Darcy smiled up at the woman. "You should've heard Fury when I let him figure it out."

The other agent gave her a tiny smile in return and shook her head. "I can't promise I won't have to report that."

"Whatever." Darcy waved a hand. "I'm past caring. This is … this is not okay, Bobbi."

"We're trying—"

"I know. I know what you're _trying_." Darcy leaned back in the chair and kicked her feet up, bracing her heels on the edge of the table while she thought. "There are things I don't like about how SHIELD ran, but staging a coup?"

"Coulson seemed out of control."

"Do you really believe that?"

Bobbi crossed her arms and stared down at her shoes. "I don't know."

"Was it Bucky that led to this?" Darcy asked, curious. The straw that broke the camel's back, maybe? The bridge too far, and other cliches?

"No, no." Bobbi shook her head. "That was just one more thing. Another tick in the box, you know?"

"Ah." Darcy rubbed the side of finger along her lips and glanced back over at the map. "In pieces, everything looks wrong, sinister, I guess. Especially after the Hydra of everything."

"I believe in SHIELD," Bobbi said. "I believe in why we're all here."

Darcy looked up at her and asked, "Do _you_ think Skye's a monster?"

"No," she told Darcy, not even the smallest beat of hesitation. "Absolutely not. She was scared. She was so, so scared."

"Why'd you send a team to take her, then?" Darcy threw her hands out wide and exclaimed, exasperated, "Is this the SHIELD we want? The Jackbooted Thug version? Because, sister, I don't like that. I'm not okay with that. How much of this could we have avoided if we'd just _talked_ to each other?"

"I went with the team to try and … to try and bring her in the right way. To talk to her. The situation got out of hand quickly," Bobbi admitted ruefully. "Agent Calderon got hurt when Skye was defending herself. I had something to say about the whole thing. I didn't let it slide. I promise you."

"But Skye's gone again," Darcy pressed, frightened and worried. Maybe Bobbi filed some sort of report or reprimand for whoever was involved, but that didn't bring Skye home or reassure Darcy that she was okay. 

"She was taken by another powered person."

Darcy let out a shuddering breath, because this was so not okay. "But who? And where? And is she okay? And …" She shoved her glasses up and rubbed at her eyes. 

"I'd be willing to bet Coulson is looking for her," Bobbi admitted.

"Well, that's something," Darcy said softly, letting her hand drop and tilting her head to rest on the back of the chair. 

"I told them trying to take Barnes in the street was a bad idea," Bobbi said after a moment.

"No shit." Darcy lifted her head an inch to give the other woman a flat look, then dropped it back down again. "We are so damned lucky nobody was killed."

Bobbi frowned, looking more than a little disturbed. "That right there is why I don't understand how you can be so casual about him. You _know_ what he is."

"Yeah, and I know _who_ he is. I've spent the last year working with him." Darcy pleaded with the other woman to understand. If there was a not sucky ending in all this, Darcy had a good idea some of that would have to do with Bobbi. Nothing about her said she was an irrational person, she seemed to be trying to manage a rapidly escalating disaster as well as she could. As well as anybody could. She knew Bobbi was trying to get her on their side, but maybe Darcy had a sliver of a chance to try and get Bobbi on hers. 

"I know it because I saved him in Estonia and he saved me in Minnesota," Darcy continued. "Because I've argued with him, and picked shrapnel out of his back, and had dinner with him, and laughed with him. I _know_ him. Yes, he's dangerous. He's very, very dangerous, but so am I. So are you. God, so is May. Hell, May is very, very, super dangerous." Darcy laughed and said in a teasing tone, "Come on, you know I'm right."

Bobbi let herself laugh a little in return and looked over at the map. "You really don't know what Coulson's up to?"

"I really don't."

Bobbi turned her gaze back to Darcy and gave her a shrewd look. "Okay, I buy he didn't tell you. But, you figured it out, didn't you?"

"Nope, not me."

Bobbi raised one eyebrow. "Stark."

Darcy fluttered her lashes and grinned. "Aw, look how well we're getting to know each other." She shrugged when the other woman continued to stare. "I don't have enough information. Even Starks need data to posit a conclusion."

"Nice dodge."

"Thanks."

"This would be easier, we could fix this faster, if you'd just explain."

"I don't have enough information," Darcy repeated stubbornly. And she didn't. She knew what Fury was doing now — wouldn't that just chap his hide? — but she didn't know _why_. And without the why, she wouldn't give up anything anybody could use to jump to the wrong conclusions. That seemed to be _real_ SHIELD's MO, after all. 

Shoulders rising and falling with a long breath, Bobbi pursed her lips. "I wish you would trust me. We're on the same side." Darcy ordered her face into something resembling Coulson's bland, inscrutable, yet somehow judging face. It seemed to work, as Bobbi held out her hands, palms up in a gesture of openness. "We really are."

"Maybe. But, I wonder if we're heading the same direction." Darcy pointed her finger at the door. "Gonzales there? Seems to have a problem with some people. People I care about a lot. And why? Because they have powers? What are _powers_ , anyway? Different abilities really, right? Clint's not powered, but he's the truest shot in the whole damned world. My dad's not powered, but he's one of the smartest people on the planet. But, those _are_ powers. And if you think they're not, then define _powers_ for me. Is it like Thor, who was born with them? Is it like Steve, who got them from science? Is it like Bruce, who was caught up in an accident? Or Skye, who apparently had ancestors who were lab rats? Where's the line, Bobbi? I'm not okay with an organization that thinks putting little, yellow stars on people's jackets is the solution to a problem. We saw that once before and it was horrifying beyond comprehension."

"That's not what I want, either," Bobbi argued back, her voice heating at Darcy's implication. "But, you can't deny that there are powered people out there who are a very real, very dangerous threat to lives."

"There are a lot of people, powered and not, who are a threat. We deal with them individually. Is Skye a threat? I mean, an active threat? No."

"We don't know how the mist changed her. And everything that happened when—"

"You said she was defending herself. You said she was scared. Anybody in that situation can be dangerous, whether they've got powers or a frying pan." Darcy puffed her cheeks out and let out a long breath. "And, fine, maybe that's not what you want, but you can't say it's not Gonzales. I didn't ignore the 'Skye's a monster' nastiness."

"There are people here who were at the Triskelion when the Winter Soldier attacked," Bobbi told her, trying to explain or justify Gonzales's position. "But, he wasn't the only one Hydra used that day. They saw the damage these people can do, and frankly, they're scared and concerned and they see the threat that powered people can pose to the rest of the world."

"Yes, scared people are always super rational."

"Hey, maybe it's easy for you to be glib—"

"I'm not being glib," Darcy shot back. "I watched a giant fire-breathing deathbot from fucking outer space level a small town in New Mexico. I fought alien elves in London. I saw the Chitauri invasion in Manhattan — jesus, I watched my dad fall out of a hole in the sky. I know from threats. I've got it. Clear as day. It's why I'm here, too." Darcy tapped her fingers on her knees, agitated and irritated anew. "But, I've also seen a broken, tortured man sitting lost on a park bench in DC. I talked to him, I didn't try to shoot him in the head. That man has saved my life. I've saved his. We've saved other lives. We've fought, just like you, to mop up this Hydra mess. Maybe not everybody is redeemable, but assuming everybody is a threat to be destroyed just because they have powers, or were twisted by Hydra or AIM or whoever else, is just wrong. It's just _wrong_."

Bobbi was silent and Darcy kept up her unhappy tapping. 

"You should have talked to us," Darcy said after a moment. "If you were concerned about Bucky, and believe me I get it, you should have just talked to us. This didn't have to happen."

"Maybe," Bobbi allowed quietly. 

They fell silent again as Darcy thought about SHIELD, what it was, what it had been, what it should be, what she was afraid it might become, and Bobbi stood lost in her own thoughts. 

The silence was broken as May strode back into the room. "We have a problem," she announced without preamble. "Gonzales and Weaver think they can reason with the Avengers. And, Agent Oliver seems to think they're as big a threat as anybody else." May scowled in disgust. "He's an idiot."

"Great," Darcy muttered.

Bobbi pursed her lips and worked them from side to side as she thought. "Then she's got to break out."

"Right, me against you two," Darcy snorted. "Gonzales won't believe that for a second. Just tell him who my dad is."

"He's not going to believe that, either," Bobbi said with a shake of her head. "I read your file, I know you were trained by Natasha Romanoff."

"Sure, but I'm _not_ Natasha Romanoff."

"Doesn't matter," Bobbi said with a wave of her hand, pushing herself away from the table. "It will go a long way to explaining how you were able to get out. Also, we underestimated you. And, again, I've read your file, that's one of your specialties."

"Along with artillery," Darcy chirped brightly, but she really wasn't feeling this plan. 

May gave her a look that said she was very much not in the mood for Darcy's smartass tendencies. "You can also fly a quinjet."

"And," Bobbi said, seeming to warm to her own plan, "this is a private conference room for the council. It's not monitored."

"Peachy," Darcy groaned, dropping her legs to the floor and standing up. "So I get the jump on you two or what? Who do I punch first? Because, actually, I don't want to do that."

May rolled her eyes. "Pull it together, Lewis. You don't have to punch anybody, you just have to be fast. Morse and I will step out in the hall, have a conversation, you slip past us. Try to make it look legitimate, would you?"

Bobbi stepped back over to the monitor and pulled up the schematics of the ship. "Here's us, and here's where you need to get." She drew her finger along the path Darcy should take. "This is your best bet, it's the long way, but there are fewer people for you to run into. You need to get to the flight deck before the alarm sounds."

"And if I don't?"

"Do it anyway," May ordered. 

Bobbi gave them both an impatient look and then turned back to the schematic. "There are guards at the end of this corridor, but if you take this first left, there's a hatch to the deck below. This is a big ship, but we've only got a little more than a skeleton crew, so you should be clear through here." She highlighted the corridors. "Then take the ladder up two decks here, then right down the corridor, and up the steps there. You'll be just off the flight deck. It's getting dark, so you can slip past any deck crew to the quinjets. There are six up there, alert craft, fueled and ready." 

May took up the briefing from there. "You need to clear the deck as quickly as possible, so you'll have to forgo the usual pre-flight checks. SHIELD will go in pursuit. Head west, we're off the coast of South Carolina. Ditch the quinjet first chance you get and clear out. Disappear until you get back to New York."

"Right."

"Also, call off Barnes," May told her with a heavy look. "I have a feeling he's not going to give you that whole 48 hours."

Darcy chuckled. "If I had to guess, I'd say he's halfway here already." At Bobbi's alarmed look she held up a hand. "He's not going to be a problem. I swear. He'll be grumpy, but he won't do anything." 

"Are you sure?"

"Completely. Fix this mess, the two of us will stay out of it. You have my word."

Bobbi bit her bottom lip and looked back at the schematics like she was second guessing herself. Then she shook it off. "I'll send the code to unlock quinjet controls."

"Don't," Darcy told her, shaking her head. "They could trace that to you. I'll hotwire it."

"You can't hotwire a quinjet," Bobbi protested.

"Pretty sure she can," May told her, a wry twist to her lips. 

"Right," Bobbi said with a slow nod of her head. "I forgot."

"For what it's worth, it was actually Clint who taught me that," Darcy said.

Bobbi gave a little laugh and smiled. "That makes all the sense in the world."

Darcy considered the other woman then grinned back. "Someday I want that story."

"I'm surprised you haven't heard it already," she replied with a little eyeroll. "Anyway. May and I will have our 'conversation', and we'll try and drag it out, but don't take too long."

Taking a deep breath, preparing herself for a pell-mell run through an aircraft carrier, Darcy straightened up and nodded. "Right. Got it. Okay, go converse. I'll be right behind you."

Bobbi headed for the door but paused and shot a questioning look at Darcy. "Can you pick a lock?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to lock the door. Just so it looks good."

"Wonderful," Darcy grumbled. "Please do. So much fun."

Bobbi gave her an encouraging smile. "You might not be Natasha Romanoff, but I heard how you broke out of that Hydra facility. You'll be fine."

"You will," May agreed. "Just don't screw up."

"Always cheery, May. Thanks," Darcy said with an exaggerated smile. 

"You'll need this," May told her, pulling Darcy's phone from her pocket and handing it over. "Good luck." 

She and Bobbi stepped out and Darcy waited for the click of the lock, and then set to work getting herself out. 

The two agents very helpfully got into a heated argument, standing nose to nose as they gestured and shouted, there was maybe some sort of residual thing there anyway, but Darcy didn't pause to ponder it. She took the cover and ran. 

First left, down the hatch that didn't want to open for a agonizingly long moment, through the rabbit warren of corridors, up the ladder, ducking down and hiding in that hatch when three men walked past, then out again, up one more ladder, down more corridors, ducking into the head when another agent meandered by, up the noisy, noisy metal stairs that everybody in the ship could probably hear, until finally she was forced to pause at that final corridor, the one that led to the outside, to freedom, a corridor that had a hell of a lot more crew moving around than Bobbi told her to expect. After a nerve-wracking, winding creep down the crew-infested hall, she managed to slip out to the flight deck. Her heart was going double time in her chest, but she also felt that giddy, thrilling rush that came from escape — a heady mix of adrenaline and endorphins. 

Steadying herself, she darted away from the carrier's island and took stock of the deck. There were some crew out, including a few moving around the quinjets, but Bobbi was right, it was getting dark. There were lights burning on the island, but it wasn't fully lit up, and the tarmac was falling into darkness, the dying daylight blending with the dark blue of the ocean and the thick marine layer to drop pools of shadows. Crew and equipment became little more than indistinct, shifting shapes in the gloom. 

Darcy slipped across the tarmac, trying to blend into those shadows, ducking behind equipment when necessary, and if that wasn't possible trying instead to look like she belonged out there. Who would think they'd have a prisoner wandering around? Somebody might do a headcount and realize there was an extra person out there, but she really didn't plan on lallygagging — May would absolutely strangle her if she got caught. 

As she crossed the tarmac, she picked her target, the loneliest little quinjet. Its ramp was shut, but it was at the far edge of the line, out near the edge of the deck itself. Slipping up to the craft, she hit the controls to lower the ramp, hoisting herself up before it lowered all the way, and then hit the controls inside as quickly as she could, not letting it drop all the way to the deck. For a long second she waited for shouts or alarms, something that said she'd been spotted. When everything stayed quiet, she took a deep breath and dropped into the pilot's seat. Her hands hovered over the controls, and she chewed on her lip. While May was technically correct, Darcy could fly a quinjet, she'd never done it alone before. Clint had always been in the seat next to her. 

No, no, she could do this. She could absolutely do this. But her timing had to be right. There were crew nearby, they'd hear the craft powering up. If she had to skip the pre-flight checks, she'd at least run over them in her head, tick systems off her mental list as she hit each switch. These were alert craft, though, meant to be able to scramble in minutes, so ideally everything should be green. But, if it was all go for her, it'd be go on the other quinjets, too, and she had about a two minute head start. This was going to be close, and first she had to disable the computer locks on the systems and make sure they couldn't shut her down in mid-flight. That would suck. 

She was just about ready to power up the engines when the alarms went off across the ship, a low wailing that floated over the flight deck. She supposed May and Bobbi had dragged their feet as long as they could. Hopefully, she had some time as they tried to figure out where she was on the ship. Maybe Bobbi's down and then up plan would work to her advantage, make them think she'd gone deeper into the ship. Except, they'd know in about thirty seconds, exactly where she was. She hit the power to the engines.

Take off was bumpier than she'd like. In fairness, she'd never taken off from the deck of an aircraft carrier rolling at sea. She winced when the deck came up to thump against the bottom of the craft. And as she gained loft, the stiff winds from the ocean pushed her sideways, a wobbling, staggering slip towards the other quinjets. It was a heart-stopping couple of seconds before Darcy regained control. But, then she was up and, as May instructed, heading west into the last blush of sunset. 

Pushing the jet's engines as hard as she dared, she skimmed low across the water, trying to stay out of anybody's radar space. Quinjets were meant to have a low profile, but she wasn't in a hurry to test that against any Coast Guard or Naval patrols. And while she knew she was off the coast of South Carolina, she didn't know how far off the coast, so to conserve fuel she held off activating cloaking unless and until she had to. 

Thirty minutes into her flight, she began to see the first hints of light along the shore. And then the reality that she was going to have to land at night in unfamiliar terrain hit her. "Oh, well, crap."

Activating cloaking, she headed towards the lights, and _then_ away from them. It was the quickest, dirtiest way she knew if she wanted any hopes of getting her bearings once she was down. She nudged herself higher, too, not wanting to buzz fishing boats that might still be out. 

It was another thirty minutes of careful flying along sandy beaches, thick wooded areas, and black, watery lowlands, before she found a broad area that looked like it might be more beach than water. She hoped it was. Her knowledge of South Carolina geography was spotty, but she seemed to think it was a lot of marsh or marsh-like terrain along the coast. Well, here was hoping the quinjet wouldn't sink before she could get out. 

Setting the craft down as gently as she could, she grimaced when it came to rest a little lopsided, but after a moment it settled, the ground solid enough to hold it. For now. Darcy didn't linger. She pulled equipment packs off the racks in the aft compartment, sorting through the crap, pulling out some flares, a flashlight, some packets of water and food rations, a mylar blanket, and a first aid kit because, hey, who knew. She shoved it all into an empty gear bag and opened the ramp.

The quinjet was listing to one side on the top of some rolling, grassy dunes. It wasn't the best parking job in the world, but _real_ SHIELD was in no position to complain. Kidnap a girl and she'll steal your shit and take it for a joyride. 

With a jaunty wave at the quinjet, she took off towards the edge of the trees, following them along the beach, heading towards the last place she saw lights. She wouldn't have much time. Minutes maybe. Worse came to worse she'd duck into the forest, but that wasn't ideal, and it wasn't like the quinjets didn't have FLIR. She needed to get to the nearest town, mingle with people, hide her trail before they got to her. 

Pulling out her phone as she jogged, she called Bucky. 

"Where the hell are you?" He growled when he picked up.

"Good to talk to you, too," she laughed. "How was your day? Meet any interesting people? I did, and then I stole a quinjet and I'm currently enjoying a brisk evening jog along the scenic beaches of South Carolina."

"I'm tracking your phone."

"You say the sweetest things. And where are you?"

He was quiet for a moment before admitting, "North Carolina."

"Well, you held out for like six hours. That was more than I thought actually. Good for you."

"I lost you when they put you on that plane," he huffed. "I went looking for the Director."

"Oh. Find him?" She asked, eager for news of their wayward boss. 

"He's in South Carolina, too. Or he was. He was on the move. Told me you'd be fine, and to call Stark if you didn't turn up soon."

"He was okay, though?"

"Yeah. Not in a good mood, but fine." Bucky let out an exasperated breath. "He says he's sorry about all this, but wants us to steer clear of it until it's resolved."

"Great," Darcy grumbled, and stumbled over the dunes, her calves starting to burn as her feet slipped and sank in the sand. "I figured out what Theta Protocol is, by the way."

"Good news or bad news?"

"Good. Probably. Except for where it's making a mess right now."

"I'm sure Fury will love hearing all about it."

"Lucky him, he'll get to." As much as she wanted to give Fury a piece of her mind about this whole SHIELD fighting SHIELD thing, she really just wanted to see the look of on his face when she told him she'd put the pieces together. That would make up for most of this, she figured. 

"Why are you out of breath?" Bucky asked, suspicion heavy in his voice.

"I told you I was jogging."

"I thought that was just you being a smartass."

"No. Literally jogging. I need to get clear of the quinjet before it's found. They're not far behind me."

"Aw, bleeding Christ, doll," he groaned. "Don't get captured _again_."

"Why not? It's always such good fun."

Bucky made a sound that was half-laugh, half-exasperated sigh. "Which way are you headed? North or south?"

"South."

"Good. North was a dead end. You're about a mile out from some place called Litchfield. Though, there's a campground or something not far from you."

"Those poor people," she panted. "They're about to get overrun by jerks in tac-gear."

"Maybe they'll be subtle."

She snorted. "Did they seem subtle to you this afternoon?"

"No," he said, his voice almost a growl. "Make your way into town, and I'll come to you. Might be a couple hours."

"I can lay low," she assured him. "Place like this, all beach and stuff, campground even, has to have some tourist service. There's a bar open somewhere."

"See how useful a bar is?"

"You know what, Barnes? Shut up," she groused, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice. "You won that argument, you're just rubbing my nose in it now."

He chuckled at that, and the hard edge of tension was gone when he replied,"Stay safe, Darce. I'll be there soon."

When she hung up, she took a moment to stop, catch her breath, and scan the skies for her pursuers. There wasn't much to see out there, night was fully on them now, there was no moon, and _real_ SHIELD would be running dark so they could avoid the Coast Guard and sneak up on her. Jerks. She looked down the beach and took in the lights, then she looked back the way she'd come. It was dark, no flashlights, no sign of pursuit. Assuming they weren't wearing nightvision goggles, of course. She loved the future, but sometimes it was such a damned pain in the ass. 

One more deep breath, she shoved her phone back in her pocket, hiked the gear bag more closely to her back, and took off at a run towards the town. 

A few more miles on, hating every single step, but pushing herself forward despite the burning of her lungs, and her legs, and her side, and her face, she finally stopped at the first bar she came across. A quick dash to the restroom — as quick as she could manage, at any rate — a minute or two to clean herself up a little, steady her breathing and massage the cramp out of her right thigh, and then she slipped back out again, heading to the next bar she might come across. 

The second bar was off some sort of wharf; a dark, moody fish house tavern, whatever the hell that meant. But the questionable hurricane lantern-light hid any number of sins (like red cheeks and sweaty, flyaway hair), and she had a twenty stashed in the tiny change pocket of her jeans. She ordered a big glass of water and a rum and coke. Then she sent Bucky a text telling him where she was. 

She'd gone through three glasses of water, a plate of fried oysters and calamari, and half the rum and coke by the time Bucky turned up. 

"Looks like you kicked over an anthill down by the beach," he greeted, sliding into the booth. 

"Yeah?" She raised her eyebrow and nodded slowly. "Good times."

"Cops out there and all."

"Looking for me?"

"Trying to figure out who the guys with guns on the beach are, I think." He shrugged and picked up the rum and coke for a sip. 

"Hey! Geez, Barnes, get some manners," she grumbled. 

"You weren't drinking it."

"Fine," she said, petulantly sticking out her lower lip at him. "Knock yourself out; it's all watery now anyway."

He shook his head and set the glass back down. "We should split."

Darcy agreed with that, oh boy did she agree. Pulling the twenty out of her pocket, she dropped it on the table, followed by her head. "I don't think I can move. I haven't run that much in months."

"Gotta get you back into shape. You know what would help with that?"

"If you say our gym, I'm asking Coulson for a divorce," she muttered into her arms and the sticky table a half inch from her face. 

"Nah, I'm a good Catholic boy. No divorce. You're stuck with me." He stood up and gave her a tug, pulling her out of the booth. "Come on, doll. I'll carry you. Pretend you're drunk. Nobody will notice."

"How are you enjoying this so much?" She asked, looking up at him, baffled by the amused quirk to his lips. 

"I dunno. I guess since we're both okay and the locals are dealing with the idiots, it's not so bad," he said, sounding unusually philosophical. "On the scale of crap you've got yourself into, this is pretty low down the pole, you know?"

"You, sir, are kind of a jerk." She poked him in the side, but didn't pull away when he slipped an arm around her waist. It felt pretty damned nice; she was tired, and he was warm and solid. "I didn't get myself into this."

"Who're we blaming?"

"Fury, for sure. Like 90% Fury."

"All that?" He asked, still finding this all so very humorous. 

"88%? That's my final offer. The rest is on those self-important douchebags."

He chuckled and guided her out of the tavern. "We'll we got a long drive back, so you can tell me all about it."

"If I don't fall asleep five minutes in."

He shrugged and opened the car door to help her in. "That's okay, too."

Darcy dropped into the leather-covered seat and sighed; such relief, such bliss. "Thanks for coming to get me."

"Anytime, doll," Bucky told her, shutting the door once he was sure she was all the way in. When he slid into the driver's seat, he asked, "Though, you think I ought to start charging taxi fare?"

Darcy snorted a laugh. "Maybe I owe you another dance."

"You're racking 'em up."

"Are you complaining?"

He glanced over at her and shook his head. "No, but, at this rate, your card's gonna be all full up for the rest of the year."

"Meh," she said on a yawn. "I like my partner."

"You must be pretty tired to admit that."

"Yeah, but it's still true."

He was quiet for a moment before asking, "Think you'll remember this tomorrow?"

"I'm tired not sloshed," she scoffed and waved her hand at the steering wheel. "Take me home, Barnes."

"Yes, ma'am."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Start a War](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6765658) by [10scheherazade01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/10scheherazade01/pseuds/10scheherazade01)




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